


Stuff + Fluff

by byesweetheart (ConstantComment)



Series: Stuff [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Awkward Romance, Best Friends, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drunken Kissing, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, M/M, More like smooshing, Pining Hinata, Second year, Sort Of, Winning Nationals, and Smooching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-18 21:42:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11883405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConstantComment/pseuds/byesweetheart
Summary: Only Hinata is the true victim of Kageyama's winning streak.





	Stuff + Fluff

**Author's Note:**

> A quick 1k of something I’ve been replaying in my brain over the last eon - a scene mentioned briefly in [Scruff + Stuff](http://byesweetheart.tumblr.com/post/161163489781/scruff-stuff-kagehina-ficlet-rated-t) from my Follower Ficlet Fest! It departs quite a bit from that ficlet in tone. Let’s just attribute it to Hinata turning into an absolute poet when drunk. ;D 

After a couple drinks, the euphoria of winning nationals— _nationals_ —bubbles down to a constant hum of absolute, unadulterated contentment with the universe. 

Everything is just  _right_. 

And Hinata is happy to linger as long as possible in the feeling as his teammates celebrate their own contentment in various, strange ways. 

Ryuu and Narita have been wobbily attempting handstands against the wall for the last twenty minutes, Yachi and Noya have been in a surprisingly heated but still amicable debate about the most best ultimate play of the entire season, and Yamaguchi has been… somewhat too happily petting Tsukishima’s hair as he vomits in the bathroom at the other end of the hotel room they’ve shared with Noya and Ryuu in the final days of the tournament, while the others play a  _very_ loose version of poker right in the doorway of the open balcony. 

Kageyama, on the other hand, is a solid wall of heat against Hinata’s side on the pull-out couch, where they’ve been crammed for the last hour, and where, originally, the whole team had scrunched together to rewatch the tape of their winning match. That is, until Saeko had knocked on the door with  _lots_ of sake and bad influence. 

Somehow Kageyama hasn’t gotten up, has barely moved an inch, since then, even through several rounds of drinks. Hinata supposes the reason is he might fall if he tries. He hadn’t wanted to drink anything until Tsukishima had challenged him, which… considering where Tsukishima is, of course resulted in a contest. 

And, as Hinata has come to know over the last two years, Kageyama is a  _winner._

But only Hinata is the true victim of Kageyama’s winning streak. He’s stuck between Kageyama’s unmoving form and the hard curve of the couch arm, its ugly maroon upholstery somehow not fusing with his t-shirt as he nearly sits in Kageyama’s lap with how little room there is. 

It feels like Kageyama is everywhere. He’s got his arm slung around the back of the couch behind Hinata’s shoulders. His left knee is actually under the crook of Hinata’s right one. And Hinata can feel the rise and fall of his breath as he sits and paws a little at Hinata’s leg with his big hand, clumsily, without any real aim.

If Hinata were completely honest, he’d admit this unadulterated contentment with the universe may be somewhat influenced by his current situation. 

He’s usually not completely honest, but Kageyama mutters something under his breath, and the air of his wine-soaked words tickles lightly over his neck, and that lends a certain honesty to everything. Hinata’s not sure his eyes can lie at this point. 

“We won,” Kageyama slurs again, and Hinata blinks up at him fuzzily. He’s been saying that over and over since they did just that, and Hinata grins every time! 

Hinata is so stupid. 

He looks up into Kageyama’s eyes, still a bit red-rimmed from crying at the medal ceremony. Hinata looks and kind of gets stuck looking. 

“Hinata,” Kageyama grumbles—he can’t not grumble Hinata’s name, probably—and his hand scrubs up Hinata’s leg and plants itself into his shirt, clenching into the fabric over Hinata’s stomach. Hinata shifts a little at the touch, taking a breath maybe to alleviate the squirming feeling in his belly. His fingers clench against his knees. 

The contentment is starting to feel sharper, needling away at his sternum. 

“Stupid,” Hinata almost whispers, tilting his head up at Kageyama’s face, his furrowed brows and his shiny black hair and his sharp jaw and his sloping nose and his hint-of-blue eyes and his lips and his everything. 

“You are,” Kageyama grunts, and the hand behind his shoulders presses into his back, wrapping Hinata even more tightly against him. 

Hinata stops breathing when their foreheads slowly knock together. “I know,” Hinata somehow chokes out, and a squeaky giggle erupts from his throat. 

Kageyama’s lips collide with the wrinkle of Hinata’s smile inevitably, it feels like, and as they purse against his skin Hinata’s eyes flutter closed. He inhales and his brow furrows and he turns infinitesimally toward him, and closes his mouth around those warm lips. 

He can feel Kageyama’s hand unclench on his stomach only to sweep across it to grip his waist, and Hinata shivers through opening his mouth and covering Kageyama’s bottom lip again. He tastes like sake, which is somehow surprising to him, like he’s supposed to taste like… Hinata couldn’t say—winning, maybe, like he’s supposed to taste like winning. Hinata flicks his tongue against his upper lip anyway, and grunts when Kageyama squeezes him tighter and returns the gesture, warm tongue flickering over Hinata’s bottom lip before slipping into his widening mouth. 

Hinata feels dumb with wanting him.

Or maybe it’s that he’s tipsy. He feels dumb, in any case, and the way Kageyama tilts his head to mouth at him better makes him even dumber.

Hinata lifts his hand in an attempt to ground himself, but it ends up curling around the jut of Kageyama’s jaw and the warm skin there, the thumping pulse, his fingers tickling against the hair behind Kageyama’s ear. A sound vibrates under the skin where Hinata’s fingers touch, and Hinata belatedly realizes it’s a low moan. Hinata shivers and his stomach flips and his knee shifts overtop Kageyama’s in their tangle on the pull-out couch. 

There’s a startled yell and a deafening  _THWUNK_  as Ryuu flops backwards onto the floor from his handstand, and the others turn to look and laugh. 

Kageyama, though, jerks away from Hinata’s lips, looking like he’s been knocked over by an overfull ball bag. Red rises up over his already sake-ruddy cheeks, and Hinata sits stunned as he shifts away and rubs his palms down his thighs once before struggling out of their snarl of limbs that Hinata had convinced himself was basically permanent by this point in the evening. 

He goes to sit rigidly in front of the television and rewinds the match tape to watch again, shoulders risen almost up to his ears, and Hinata’s contentment ebbs and flows. 

Hinata watches Kageyama as he tucks his legs underneath him on the cushions, leans his head on the couch arm, and presses his burning cheek hard into his palm. His lips feel bruised and his stomach is twisted in knots and no one noticed them at all, no one noticed the sudden upheaval of the universe just seconds ago. 

But Hinata did.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments & kudos are appreciated. <3
> 
> Come say hi on [Tumblr](http://byesweetheart.tumblr.com/) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/byesweetheart_)!


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